


Ne Me Quitte Pas

by FantasticNumberNine



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Battle of Five Armies, Because there wasn't enough angst I guess, I'm so sorry, Jaques Brel, M/M, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2631317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticNumberNine/pseuds/FantasticNumberNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo trusts Thorin, he has too, or perhaps he can't help it. But it was always going to end this way. </p><p>The bagginshield is light, but the angst is heavy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ne Me Quitte Pas

**Author's Note:**

> *disclaimer*
> 
>  
> 
> Eh... So I was listening to Jacques Brel and this happened... And I'm sorry...

Bilbo stands before Thorin, silent as his coat and vest are stripped gently from him. 

Thorin's eyes are not the striking blue he'd first seen all that time ago in Bag End; they are dark, almost black, and while softer here as his heavy fingers trail down Bilbo's arms, they gleam gold in the firelight. 

Thorin's hands reach his, and Bilbo tangles their fingers, squeezing as tight as he can (he will not fear Thorin, though his mind says he ought too).

He pulls away from Bilbo, just for a moment, and then he is back, close enough that Bilbo can feel him breathing--imagines he can hear his heart thudding erratically too, but it is more likely his own heart pounding.

The coat of mithril is cool through the thin shirt he wears, and a small smile graces Thorin's lips (a smile Bilbo has not seen since they entered the Mirkwood). It stays as he fastens a belt of pearls around his waist, and turns bashful when the helm proves too large. 

Bilbo wants desperately to embrace him, and only hesitates a moment before doing so. Thorin grips him tight, the lack of air should be uncomfortable, but Bilbo would rather die here, in Thorin's arms, than be let go.

_Ne me quitte pas._

He had been warned of the gold-sickness. Bilbo saw it, his mind was shouting, begging him to stay away from the mountain as his heart stubbornly insisted that Thorin would not hurt him.

"I'm not afraid of Thorin." 

"You should be." 

He doesn't know how to respond to Thorin's rage. Part of him had been expecting it, but all of Bilbo is stunned when Thorin's hand closes around his throat, holding him over the wall, high above the ground below.

His hands are clutching Thorin's arm and his legs are kicking wildly as he fights just to breathe, to say something, anything to clear the betrayal and fury from Thorin's gold-blackened eyes (the blue is gone).

_Ne me quitte pas._

Bilbo has no intentions of staying safely behind the lines during this battle. He slips on the peculiar golden ring and grips his blade, perhaps tighter than he should, and throws stones at unsuspecting orcs and slices tendons when he dares to get so close.

He watches Thorin rally the armies of men, elves, and dwarves from afar, and struggles to reach him. Even invisible, crossing an active battlefield is dangerous, and Bilbo loses sight of Thorin quickly.

He loses sight of everything quickly when he is struck down by an errant stone. Blackness shrouds his vision and he falls, the sounds of battle little more than a whisper in his mind and Thorin's name slips from his lips as he hits the ground, unconscious.

_Ne me quitte pas._

Bilbo is still wearing the ring when he wakes, and it takes him a moment to know to remove it. From there, everything seems to pass much too quickly.

He stands outside Thorin's tent, unsure of his welcome despite being told that he'd been asking after him. He pushes through slowly, and then all at once Bilbo is kneeling at Thorin's bedside.

There is blood, and bandages, everywhere, and he does not know what to do. Does not know if there is anything he _can_ do. 

Thorin is smiling softly, his fingers tapping weakly at Bilbo's, and he grips them tightly, too tightly, but Thorin would rather die here, hand in hand with Bilbo, than have him let go.

His eyes are blue again, for a moment, as he bids Bilbo farewell, before they flutter closed and his breathing stills. 

_Ne me quitte pas._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna go get back to my Potterlock, now. 
> 
> Because it doesn't make me want to punch dwarves. Gods, I am not ready for BofA.


End file.
